


Expendable by Definition

by Daiya_Darko



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Hostage Situations, Implied Torture, M/M, Marine Corps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daiya_Darko/pseuds/Daiya_Darko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Marines have a practice that the other branches don't: their snipers are two men as one, legs intertwined while one mans the scope and the other adjusts his rifle according to the numbers his partner spits out. </p><p>Together, they're a well-oiled machine. Deadly and efficient, Staff Sgt. Hikaru Sulu and Lance Corporal Pavel Chekov are the dream team. That is, until Chekov is taken hostage and then Hikaru will do anything in his power to get his comrade in arms back, including going AWOL and pulling favors from a few friends. </p><p>He has to; life without Chekov is like walking around half blind and a blind sniper is better off dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expendable by Definition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jessicamiriamdrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/gifts).



> I've always thought the way USMC snipers operate was pretty crafty, and it inspired this fic. I'm also under the opinion that Sulu would make the perfect soldier, given STID. 
> 
> I'm no military expert, so all technical details come from people I ask who were enlisted or research.

The sun burns down the back of Sulu's neck and he regrets not keeping his scarf on. He can't do anything about it now, but he makes a mental note to remember later.

He inhales and blinks.

Focus.

Chekov's leg is heavy on top of his, his bony elbow digging into Sulu's back, but these are things Sulu has grown used to, grown to appreciate.

As long as Chekov is there, as long as they're touching, they're safe.

"Come down two minutes," Chekov barely mutters, and Sulu makes the adjustment. His target just slumped down for a nap.

"Okay, fire when ready," Chekov says from behind the scope.

Sulu inhales, pulls the trigger, then exhales.

A red cloud explodes from the target's head.

Pavel mutters something into his throat mic, orders confirming the rest of their unit can move forward, and begins to stand up. Already, Sulu misses the heat of a leg against his, but the approving smirk on Pavel's face tells him he'll be feeling it again soon – and much more.

 

* * *

 

Sulu pushes Chekov into the shower before he can finish pulling his pants off, but he doesn't care. Every kill he makes – every kill _they_ make – makes him harder than the FMJ .762s he uses.

He always fucks Chekov in the shower, and everyone knows better than to go in right after a successful mission.

Every time, Sulu gets close to kissing Chekov on the mouth, but he doesn't. Mouth kisses mean love, and there's no room for love when you're in the field. You can die at any given moment and war doesn't stop for you to mourn. Sulu is a loving man, but he can't be willy nilly with it.

Chekov doesn't seem to mind, just leaves bruises on Sulu's throat in the form of bites and finger prints. The sex is always rough, because anything else is love.

And well, yeah.

 

* * *

 

Sulu joined the Marines because he didn't want to follow the tradition of Air Force. He wanted to annoy his father's family by becoming a jarhead – Gung Ho! Hoorah! Semper fi!

Sulu repeated these every night as he trained for basic and smiled when his father mumbled about how he was too smart for the Marines.

He had forgone graduate school for the Marines because they would pay for tuition or at least give him something better to do than build models to test for R&D at MIT. Maybe he could work for DARPA; the idea filled Sulu with a bubbling excitement.

Sulu thought he would be the oldest in his platoon, expecting to be surrounded by baby faced high schoolers, and realized he was part of the youngest, or moreso the middle.

The youngest was Chekov, fresh out of high school and barely a hair on his chest. Sulu saw how stoic he remained in spite of continual teasing and belittling by their leader. No matter what, Chekov completed the obstacle courses in record time, recited the rules effortlessly, and never showed a sign of wear or fear. On the range, he was unmatched by everyone except Sulu.

That was when Sulu decided he needed to get to know this kid.

When he spoke, his voice was firm, if a little high and scratchy, and Sulu decided he would befriend this one. The others were just expendable, rifle-toting machines; Chekov was bright and still capable of thinking for himself.

But Chekov showed no interest in being friends with anyone. He focused on his studies and kept to himself. Every time Sulu tried to engage him in conversation, Chekov would stonily ignore him. It got to the point that Sulu became insecure – had he offended him in some way? Was he racist? Sulu sure hoped not, because Chekov was cute.

Unfortunately, a few others thought the same. Sulu woke in the night to hear quick yet quiet footsteps scurry across their barracks and rustling and the muffled grunts of someone being carried to the head. Sulu would have just gone back to sleep, but he felt the need to check things out. He padded towards the head and peeked inside to see Wilson, who was supposed to be keeping watch, tell the three guys to hurry up.

Sulu snuck up behind him, took his baton, and proceeded to beat everyone to a messy pulp.

They wouldn't tell – they couldn't without incriminating themselves.

Chekov looked defiantly up at Sulu and hissed, "I didn't need your help!"

Sulu snorted. "You look like you weigh 100 pounds on a good day. You're lucky someone's watching your back."

Chekov pouted, and Sulu wanted to bite that rosy, indignant lip. He wanted to bite every piece of Chekov, wanted to press him into the wall and devour him piece by piece. He wasn't going to try and rape Chekov like the others had, but he would defintely pursue him.

And besides, the kid owed him at least a handjob for saving his ass, literally.

From that point on, Chekov stopped ignoring Sulu and graduated to barely tolerating him. Everyone else picked up on the hint: no one was going to get to Chekov unless they got through to Sulu, and it worked for both of them. Chekov could get by with only one distraction to worry about, and Sulu got to be near Chekov.

Graduation day came and Sulu rolled his eyes at his dad and uncles in their Air Force regalia. He sought out Chekov past them and saw the kid standing around by himself.

He had no one.

Sulu dragged him over to his family and invited him out to dinner. Chekov watched him in surprise, barely able to keep up with Sulu explaining a lie just so that Chekov wouldn't be alone. It was on that day that Sulu finally cracked through the tough shell of one Pavel Chekov and got a glimpse at the cheery, dorky kid inside.

Chekov let his guard down and let Sulu in – Sulu made himself at home and decided he would never leave.

 

* * *

 

"Foxtrot Alpha Romeo, what is your position, over?"

"Three clicks west of base, heading out to rally, over."

"Keep a look out for – " the transmission is cut off by a loud explosion, and the black hawk begins to spiral down. McKenna is knocked out from the blast, as well as Riley, and Sulu rolls his eyes.

They don't build soldiers who can take a hit like they used to.

He pulls Mckenna out of the pilot seat and Chekov does the same for Ripley, replacing him. As Chekov tries to get back in contact with base, Sulu tries to gain some control over the descent. If he could only slow it down so that it wouldn't kill them on impact...

Touchdown. It's rough, it's fiery, but he and Chekov get their wounded teammates and gear out of the destroyed chopper and to the nearest cover, which happens to be some low foothills.

They fall into routine from there, once ensuring McKenna and Riley aren't actually dead.

"Give me a sit rep, baby," Sulu orders, and doesn't bother checking his choice of words. Everyone already knows and things have already gone off course, so why bother?

"Tango on your one o'clock," Chekov barks back, quickly getting to the ground and partially on top of Sulu once he reorients.

Then comes the silence, the deadly silence that warns of impending bullets, slowly taking their time to tear apart through the desert air.

A bead of sweat trickles to Sulu's eyebrow, threatening to fall in his eye, but he can't move. Wordlessly, Chekov dabs at it.

There's no need for "please" and "thank you" when it really boils down to "do or die."

Sulu catches movement, and Pavel hisses out directions. 

Inhale, trigger, exhale.

One down.

Pavel radios base for backup or extraction, and is basically told, "you're on your own." He curses in Russian, and Sulu grips this trigger guard angrily.

Just like his CO to put them on an unofficial mission and get them killed. When he gets back –

The rock surface next to them explodes with dust and fragments of rock, but Sulu doesn't move, frozen in fear now.

Was that even a live target or did they fall for an attempt to expose their location.

"We have to move, now," Sulu growls, ducking beneath the rock face as a barrage of bullets opens on them.

Chekov nods curtly and points at McKenna and Ripley.

Sulu shakes his head. "Every man for himself and you're my number one priority." He says it like this is a hostage rescue situation and Chekov is the hostage, but in reality...

Yeah, it pretty much is.

They run for new cover just as a gas canister unloads above them. They fumble for their masks, and Sulu switches to his knife. The smoke is a disadvantage, but he'd rather not take the risk of shooting Chekov or any other friendly.

"Chekov?" He calls out, heart racing when he doesn't hear a response. Running through the smoke, Sulu runs smack into a big, burly man in dirty fatigues, gun pressed to Chekov's temple.

Sulu wants to be afraid, wants to at least fear for Chekov, but all he can feel is anger.

Chekov belongs to him.

"Let him go," Sulu warns as he changes the way he holds his knife, ready to throw it at a moment's notice.

"You tell your CO if they want him, they will have to answer our demands," the man replies through a thick accent. Before Hikaru can move, the man and Chekov disappear. He runs through the smoke pistol drawn as he looks for the captor and curses when he realizes he just ran in a circle.

When he gets back, Marcus is gonna hear about this.

 

* * *

 

"Sounds to me like you didn't do your job properly, seargeant," Colonel Marcus drawls, not bothering to look up from his papers.

"You all knew there were enemy combatants trying to snatch a soldier for ransom and didn't think to tell us! How am I supposed to do my job if I don't know all the information, sir?" Sulu is still struggling to show some respect, even if it's completely fake at this point and Marcus knows it.

"Well firstly, you weren't supposed to be out there – "

"My CO gave me my orders, orders that came from you, so don't give me that bullshit!" Sulu snaps. "We have to go find him!"

Marcus finally looks up, his eyes deadly serious. "Is fucking that twink really that important to you?"

Sulu bites his tongue, clenching his fists to keep from dragging Marcus over the desk and gutting him like a fish.

"He's my teammate. He is my scope. I don't like leaving a man behind."

"Chekov is a feisty little thing; he'll be alright if we don't send out a search party right this instant. You're dismissed, Sulu."

"But colonel – "

"And you are forbidden from going out to find him yourself. Do so, and you're AWOL as well as deserting."

Sulu closes his eyes and inhales.

"Yes sir."

Exhale.

Sulu really wants to punch something, but he's not going to punch one of his few trusted friends that's waiting for him. Sgt. Kirk probably deserves to be hit, but Sulu likes to give him a chance to earn it first.

Kirk is practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "So when do we go out? Who's on our team?"

Sulu shakes his head. "I've been ordered not to pursue at risk of dishonorable discharge and they're not going to look for him."

That stops Kirk in his tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Marcus doesn't want to expend anymore bodies."

"We're Marines; that's the whole point of our bodies."

"I know," Sulu gives him a mischievious grin and asks, "Feeling expendable?"


End file.
